Carrot Vodka

Igor leaned on the big battered barrel. A carrot colored beard flowed over the wood. His breath came out in big fumes of white whenever he spoke.
“We make vodka from anything. This carrot vodka. Specialty of Vidulka. You try? Or not man? Don’t worry, this like flower perfume.”
Mark Spencer thought about all the years he had trained to become a marine, his tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq only to die from some homemade vodka. But if he refused Igor he would look like a wimp. Then Igor would have the upper hand and that means the deal would become way more expensive. Igor was his only way into the nuclear factory and Igor knew it. Enough money got you anything in Russia, but if you didn’t have respect, you’d be shooting into a pond.
Mark nodded.
Igor smiled and went over to his small dirty sink and pulled out two unwashed looking glasses. “Don’t worry. Germs not live in cold and not drink vodka.” He poured the orange vodka into the glasses. It spilled over the edge of the glass onto Igor’s fat dirty fingers.
They lifted the glasses high and clinked them together.
Mark downed the glass in one go. It flamed all the way down to his stomach.
“Woah Woah! What you do American mad man. Vodka drink slooow.” Igor took a tiny sip from his full glass.
Mark felt something wrong. His head began to ache. His stomach turned. He felt the vodka climbing back up his throat and pushed it down forcefully. “So tonight I meet Vladi in the tow…” He felt himself choking and saw Igor chuckle. He fell to the floor like a tree stump.
“You fuck with Mother Russia. Mother Russia fuck with you CIA man.”